There’s something uncanny about that moment before I completely lose control of myself, as if it’s a paused moment, leaving me just enough time to process what is about to happen. In that moment, it goes from being in my head to causing a physiological response. My vision goes in and out, my breathing becomes difficult, and my entire body is trembling uncontrollably. I am having an anxiety attack. Again.
Throughout my life thus far, I have always dealt with depression and anxiety. I used to be quiet about it; I’ll even admit that I was ashamed about it. Growing up as an Asian-American with Vietnamese immigrant parents, I was told that I better appreciate everything I have because my parents sacrificed so much to build this life for me. Don’t get me wrong, I did appreciate it. My dad went from being an orphan to having an M.A. in computer science and my mom was a nurse. They did jobs unconventional to the stereotypes of Vietnamese immigrants, and I was truly proud of them for not letting their past change their ambitions for their future. However, to admit that I was depressed or had anxiety to my parents, felt like I was disrespecting the hard work they put in to give me a better life. So I stayed quiet. And it got worse.
Throughout my life thus far, I have always dealt with depression and anxiety. I used to be quiet about it; I’ll even admit that I was ashamed about it. Growing up as an Asian-American with Vietnamese immigrant parents, I was told that I better appreciate everything I have because my parents sacrificed so much to build this life for me. Don’t get me wrong, I did appreciate it. My dad went from being an orphan to having an M.A. in computer science and my mom was a nurse. They did jobs unconventional to the stereotypes of Vietnamese immigrants, and I was truly proud of them for not letting their past change their ambitions for their future. However, to admit that I was depressed or had anxiety to my parents, felt like I was disrespecting the hard work they put in to give me a better life. So I stayed quiet. And it got worse.
But you would never know that because I looked so good on paper. I was apart of the Grand Rapid’s Youth Commission from age twelve through sixteen, working with educators and community leaders in establishing a blueprint for youth success in my hometown. In addition, I was one amongst five who were selected by Mayor George Heartwell to accept the award as a Champion of Diversity. I spoke at the State of the City Address in front of 500 people when I was sixteen, in both English and Vietnamese, to represent my diversity. I did everything I could to make my parents proud and happy, but was I? Was I even proud and happy myself?
This is who I created myself to be, who I appeared to be. The only outlet I had was writing. And I wrote, a lot. For me, writing alleviated my anxiety. It was deeply cathartic for me to be able dissolve the censorship I carried on my tongue when I was around my parents. I wrote short stories and poems, mostly about my depression and anxiety, as shown by the images below (screen shots of my poems).
I breathed through my writing, meaning I held my breath most of the time. I learned to live like this throughout middle and high school; suffocating, but alive. Then I did it; I made the best decision I could have for myself - I committed to San Diego State University and got the hell out of Michigan (and my parent's house). This marks the beginning of my path towards finding happiness; one I can call my own - motivated by me, for myself and only myself. My happiness should not and cannot depend on my parent's approval of me, because at the end of my life, I need to know that I lived for myself and not for someone else.
This mark of independence isn't something genuine to have had experienced, I know that since having shared my story with the incredible individuals I've met at SDSU. I believe we all share having had a mark of independence; a moment where we have decided to go against what we've been told, or against what we believed we are suppose to do, in order to do something for ourselves. This time in our lives, this newfound independence, it's a beautiful thing to be cherished and nourished, and that's exactly what I've been doing with it.
I am happy to say that my relationship with my parents has greatly improved and I now have an open relationship with them, where I can unapologetically say what I need to say. In learning how to work with my parents to develop the relationship I aspired to have with them, I was able to help my younger siblings establish that similar relationship so that they can live a more fulfilling life while still being at home. Finding my happiness has spread throughout my family, and I believe we all are truly better when we take time to be selfish about our happiness.
There are still days, weeks, sometimes even months, where I find myself dealing with my persistent depression and anxiety in college, but I feel stronger now because I know how to live with the cards I've been dealt.
I'm not sure how much time has passed, but I've regained my breathing and I've stopped shaking."It's just another anxiety attack," I think to myself, "I can pick myself up again, I've done it before."
